


To The Point Of Exhaustion

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Also Featuring The Rest Of The M9, Caleb Gets A Much Needed Nap, Cuddling, Exhaustion, Gen, fluff mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-01 07:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16760317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: Caleb stood on the deck of the Squall Eater, staring out at the ocean without seeing it. He was tired in spirit, weary of the ocean, of sailing, of pirates. He was tired in body, literally shaking with fatigue, vision blurred and gone gray around the edges. The only thing keeping him upright was inertia, the tendency of a body in motion to stay in motion, but all he wanted to do was be a body at rest, to stay at rest until they got back to civilization.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3am, I couldn't sleep, so I decided to try and finish this up before Thursday's episode. I find the fact that I'm now very tired extremely fitting.

Caleb stood on the deck of the Squall Eater, staring out at the ocean without seeing it. He was tired in spirit, weary of the ocean, of sailing, of pirates. He was tired in body, literally shaking with fatigue, vision blurred and gone gray around the edges. The only thing keeping him upright was inertia, the tendency of a body in motion to stay in motion, but all he wanted to do was be a body at rest, to stay at rest until they got back to _civilization_. He missed bookstores and solid ground and he missed honest to gods _laws_ and that was funny, that was very funny.

“Caleb?” There was a tug on Caleb’s sleeve. “Caleb, are you all right?” Nott’s voice, hard to hear over the sound of someone laughing, ugly, harsh laughter, the kind that could turn into crying in an instant.

Caleb had stayed up all night breaking the cipher on Avantika’s journal so that others could read it without needing magic, finishing the last of his work only seconds before the knock on the door, the walk to the docks, the inquiry. Then there had been fire and fighting and running and a trial held by a pirate court, a trial during which Caleb had defended his friends, had played the part of someone confident and capable as everyone as stared at him, as everyone had listened. It had almost been like the old days, when he hadn’t had to act, when he had _been_ the confident one, the prideful one, so sure he had been right. So very sure.

Blue in front of him, violet eyes, freckles like ink spots on a page. “I think he’s broken,” Jester said, and that was funny too, because she had _no_ idea how right she was. She would never know, if he could help it. He didn’t want her to look at him with pity, didn’t want to be the one to take the smile from her face.

“Man just talked us all out of a violent death and got us Captain Avantika’s ship in the process,” Caleb heard Fjord say. “I think that would fray anyone’s nerves.” Caleb could hear the tremor in Fjord’s voice and wondered if anyone else could. Fjord’s gaze had been the heaviest upon him at the trial, the look of a man who knew he was in over his head, a drowning man who kept pulling his friends under the water even as they tried to save him. Caleb knew the breaking points of people as well as he knew where north was, and knew Fjord had come closer to his than anyone could have expected.

“He is not broken,” Yasha said, her voice as soft as a benediction he did not deserve. “I have seen broken men.”

“He’s just tired,” Caleb heard Beau say, and there was her hand on his arm, tugging at him. “Caleb, c’mon, let’s get you back to your room. And stop laughing man, it’s seriously creeping me out.”

“I got this,” Caleb heard Caduceus say just before magic began to tug at his thoughts, soft and inviting, promising comfort and calm and—

Caleb clenched his jaw, laughter abruptly cut off as the magic broke against his resisting mind, as he fought down memories of years ago, of what Trent had done to him…

“Please ask me first next time,” Caleb said softly, with forced calm. Nott had said the same thing to him once, hadn’t she? He reached down and stroked her hair in an unspoken apology.

“I’m sorry,” Caduceus said contritely, and Caleb could tell that he meant it. “Caleb, would you like me to cast—“

“I am all right now,” Caleb interrupted, the syllables of the words clipped in annoyance. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I thank you, but I am fine.” The words came out softer that time. “I would like my cat back though. Please.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” Beau looked slightly abashed as she took the tiny owl out of her pocket and handed him to Caleb. “You let me keep him longer than a week, you know. Ummmm, thank you.”

Caleb _had_ known, of course he had, but he had let it slide, there had been so much else going on. “You are welcome.” He stroked Frumpkin’s feathers, which weren’t at all as soft as fur. “I’m going to get you back into a proper shape, okay?” He placed Frumpkin on his shoulder and took a step toward the stairs, swaying slightly.

“Can I do anything?” Jester asked. “I mean, it’s not my kind of magic at all, but if you have to draw fancy symbols and stuff I could help maybe? I promise not to draw any dicks.”

Jester sounded worried, and Caleb felt his eyes prickle, his emotions entirely too close to the surface. She had such a soft heart, and the world was going to hurt her for it, he just knew it. “I am good Jester, thank you. But maybe—“ Caleb lowered his voice. “Maybe you and Beau should go give Fjord a hug, _ja_?”

“But I’m so _bad_ at hugging,” Beau protested, but Jester was already tugging on her arm.

“Then you need practice,” Jester said firmly as she lead Beau away.

”I’ll stay with you Caleb,” Nott said firmly, and Caleb reached down to stroke Nott’s hair again. He loved his goblin friend deeply, but she did cling to him so.

“You do not have to,” Caleb said as they walked down the stairs, Nott gripping the sleeve of his coat. “You should go check on the cannons, in fact. I do believe you might be the only one of our crew who knows how to care for them.”

Nott looked up at Caleb, eyes as round and dark as cannonballs themselves. “I’m the master gunner now,” she said with wonder, softly, then much, much louder. “I’m the master gunner now!!”

“Indeed,” Caleb said with a smile as he tried not to wince at the volume of Nott’s words. “You’ve been promoted. Just don’t go setting anything off, okay?”

Nott was already halfway down the hall, saying something that Caleb hoped was a promise not to blow herself or the ship up. She would be fine. Probably.

It was only when Caleb was opening the door to his room that he realized that Caduceus was still behind him. “Mister Clay, are you following me?”

“Yes,” Caduceus said simply. “No offense Mister Caleb, but you look like you’re about to fall over, and I feel I should be close by so I can keep that from happening. Not to mention I’ve never seen anyone change an owl into a cat before.”

“I will be fine,” Caleb said, and caught the way Caduceus frowned slightly. “And as rituals go, it is not terribly exciting. Some incense, a few words. Nothing very much.” That was mostly true, it was less of a strain to reshape Frumpkin as opposed to having to create an entirely new body for him, but the effort still took time and energy.

Frumpkin squeaked and shifted his feet back and forth, tiny talons pricking Caleb through his coat. It reminded Caleb of the way Frumpkin, in his proper cat shape, would “yell” at him for doing something foolish, meowing and stomping his feet.

“He’s worried about you too, you know.”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb said with a huff. “I can tell when I’m being ganged up on.” He reached up and pet the tiny owl with one finger until Frumpkin stopped squeaking. “All right then, Mister Clay. You can stay as long as you are quiet, but that should be no trouble for you.”

“I can be very quiet,” Caduceus agreed, and Caleb could actually _hear_ the smile in Caduceus’s tone, which was a neat trick.

Caleb’s eyes fell upon the bed the second he stepped into his room, but he knew better than to stop and sit down on it even for a moment, even to just take off his boots. He slung his pack onto the bed instead, rummaging through it until he found the small brazier and the charcoal and incense he needed before pulling a piece of chalk out of one of the many pockets of his coat.

“Do you mind if I take off my armor?” Caduceus asked, and Caleb heard the closing of the door behind him. “It’s been a long day and I am tired of feeling… confined.”

The memory that hit Caleb was only a few hours old, of his friends standing in a room, the clink of manacles against chains had been almost intolerable to his ears. His hands had been bound as well, but that hadn’t distressed him nearly as much as knowing that everyone else was also captive. “That’s fine,” Caleb said with a dismissive wave of his hand, belying the shiver that had crept up his back. “Just be careful moving around while I am drawing. Smudged spell diagrams are nobody’s friend.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh yes, precision is key,” Caleb said as he knelt down and began drawing lines and runes and complex shapes. “Everything must be just so.” It was an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he drew, but it helped that the spell was one he had done so many times before, so much so that even though his vision was blurry from exhaustion, the diagram was textbook perfect when he was finished. “There. Then the brazier goes here in the middle, and the charcoal and the herbs and the incense go in that, and Frumpkin goes right here.” He placed Frumpkin in the designated circle, the owl blinking up at him with large, amber eyes. “There you go. Now this is the part where I need you to be quiet, Caduceus.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb saw Caduceus nod and sit down. Caleb nodded himself, bringing out flint and steel to light the brazier, the task too delicate to trust a firebolt to it, especially on a wooden ship. The smell of incense was already beginning to fill the air as he stepped very carefully over the chalk lines and sat down next to Caduceus, the only space available to him in the small room. Exhaustion washed over him like a wave, made worse by the fact that he was no longer standing, no longer moving, and he felt himself sway, suddenly nauseous and dizzy.

There was a hand on Caleb’s back suddenly, and though no magic flowed from it, Caleb still felt better for the contact, steadier, grounded. He nodded again, to assure Caduceus he was all right, and then he closed his eyes and started to speak, hands raised, fingers moving as if he were plucking the strings of a harp, not that he had ever done such a thing and closed his eyes, visualizing the shape he wanted Frumpkin to take. The first time Caleb had cast the spell, shortly after escaping from the asylum, he had kept his mind empty on purpose, willing to take whatever the universe felt he deserved, sure that the spell would fail, that no spirit would come to him. Now though, now he let himself think of his childhood pet, of the kitten that had slept on his chest while he had stayed up reading in bed, of the cat who had hunted mice in the fields and had slept by the fireplace in the winter and who had often tried to steal his Mama’s yarn while she knitted. The memories nearly caused him physical pain to recall, a tightening in his chest and a burning behind his closed eyelids as he tried not to cry, but pain was the price of magic sometimes, Trent had taught him that. The _world_ had taught him that.

Time seemed to stretch and slow as if it had become molasses, though Caleb’s internal clock told him that the seconds were turning to minutes at the same rate they always had been, that he hadn’t learned how to turn back time yet, hadn’t learned to unwind the threads of fate, reweave the tapestry and remove his past sins. Still, it seemed like a small eternity before Caleb felt the tension in the air suddenly snap with an almost audible sound as the magic completed itself. When he opened his eyes, Frumpkin stared back at him, once again in a proper shape, all orange fur and black stripes and spots, just like the long ago cat from his childhood, just like the first time Caleb had summoned him all those years ago when he had been on the run and alone, desperate for a friend. He sagged in relief and exhaustion as Frumpkin jumped into his lap, and found himself leaning against Caduceus, sturdy as a tree beside him.

“Sorry,” Caleb muttered, words barely audible, the effort of the night before and the day that had followed and the magic he had just done having left him with barely the energy to speak. He tried to make himself get up, but his legs refused his commands, and his hands continued to stroke Frumpkin’s fur, though the movements felt heavy and slow.

Caduceus chuckled, the sound as warm and soft as a blanket. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m not going anywhere. Take all the time you need.”

Caleb wanted to protest, but he felt his eyes closing instead. With a warm cat in his lap and a warm friend beside him, Caleb finally, _finally_ , became a body at rest.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comments for this fic originally, @XinyiC said they'd love to see a part two to this fic. I wrote them an epilogue in the reply to that comment, and only just now realized that other folks might like to read it too. Enjoy!

Jester knocked on the door to Caleb's room as loudly as she dared, not wanting to wake Caleb if he was sleeping. "Caleb? Is Caduceus in there with you? We can't find him and there *might* have been an incident in the kitchen involving a mixup with black pepper and gunpowder and everyone's *fine* and everything, but we could really use help getting everyone fed?"

"I'm really sorry," Nott said. "I was just trying to help."

"The explosion was kind of awesome," Beau said. "And no one got seriously hurt. Except for the oven, and Jester mostly fixed that."

"Mostly," Jester said. "Do you think I should knock again?"

"It's unlocked." Caduceus's voice was a whisper, but somehow it carried through the door. "I'd let you in, but, well, there's a bit of a situation in here."

"A situation?" Beau asked as Jester opened the door. "What kind of--"

It was immediately clear what the problem was. Caduceus smiled and spread his hands, indicating the wizard sprawled half across his lap, and the cat sleeping in the wizard's arms, purring up a storm. "I don't think I can ever move again."

"This is so precious, I think I'm going to be sick," Beau whispered as Jester pulled out her sketchbook, her eyes shining, and began to draw.

Nott just smiled and gave Caduceus the slightest of nods. He had really meant it when he had told her that he would take care of her boy.

**Author's Note:**

> If I could draw in any capacity, I would draw Caleb ending up sprawled across Caduceus's lap, Frumpkin in his arms, and Caduceus just being all, "Well, I guess I'm here forever now."
> 
> I'm angel-ascending over on Tumblr if y'all want to stop by and say hi!


End file.
